Secrets Whispered from the Sea - Emma St. Clair Page 0,14
soon. So, I wasn’t surprised when I woke up to the sound of crinkling paper bags and familiar whispers.
Minus one.
The one voice that more and more, every hour I spent on this island, I longed to hear. With my eyes closed and the warm apple cinnamon scent still filling my nose, I could almost hear Nana’s voice among Vivi’s, Sylvia’s, and Lucy’s. Together, they had made music I only missed now that it was one note short of being a full chord.
“How much longer do you think she’ll pretend to be asleep?” That was Sylvia, her Cuban accent stronger than the last time I remembered. Nana accused her of intentionally ramping it up to get attention.
“I’ll stop pretending if you brought empanadas,” I said, standing up from my spot on the couch and stretching as I examined the three women who had been staples in Nana’s life since my childhood. They had all outlived their husbands, and Nana had been the only one with family On Island. Through the years and the addition of children and grandchildren, they’d always had each other.
Until now.
Whenever the grief hit me, it was always a surprise. Every blow was a different kind. This morning, in this house, looking over at Nana’s best friends, the pain was quick and deadly, a slice right to my heart.
Sylvia looked me over before wrapping me up in a hug. “Are you getting taller?”
“Hopefully not,” I said. “I don’t want to have to buy new pants.”
“I think what Clem is too polite to say is that you’re shrinking,” Lucy said, elbowing Sylvia out of the way to take her place. Before she hugged me, Lucy’s brown eyes met mine. Where Vivi’s gray-blue eyes had grown cloudy, Lucy’s seemed brighter somehow, more assessing. And I could read the sorrow in their depths.
One more slice to the chest.
I crushed Lucy to me, not worried like I had been hugging Vivi. Or maybe I was too emotional in the moment to hold back. The woman had the build of a linebacker, which I only knew because her late husband had been one. They were a perfect set. Until he died from cancer ten years ago—or was it fifteen? I should, but didn’t, remember.
Lucy and I said nothing, simply embraced, squeezing like we were trying to wring out all our emotions in that hug. She smelled of talcum powder and the rose lotion she’d always worn. Her long white hair tickled my neck.
As if she sensed my emotions, Lucy let me cling to her until I could manage to swallow down my tears. She patted my cheek before turning away.
“Did you call in the cavalry to help with all this?” I asked, stretching my arms wide.
Vivi laughed. “Oh, no. We wouldn’t take away this gift from you.”
I blinked at her. “Gift? Is that what you call all this?”
“No no no, mija.” Chuckling, Sylvia rooted around in a paper grocery sack that she must have brought with her. There were four other bags on the floor since the counters were full of Nana’s random dish collections and other things. “The gift is the experience.”
I did my best not to snort at the thought that dealing with the junk piled around Nana’s house was some kind of gift. Or experience, as Sylvia called it. I was sticky already from the lack of AC. Vivi fanned herself with two pot holders shaped like smiley face emojis. Where on earth did Nana get those?
Lucy and Vivi rummaged through bags, starting to put things in the fridge. I winced, realizing that I hadn’t even opened the refrigerator or pantry. I assumed if things looked that bad out here, I might not want to know what was in there. Even as I was imagining moldy cheese and deli meat that had grown legs, my stomach growled, a testament to how hungry I truly was. I hadn’t been very good about keeping myself fed since I left Houston.
“Hungry?” Vivi asked, one brow raised.
“I could eat a bear.”
“We don’t have bears,” Sylvia said with a grin and a wink. “But we did bring donuts. Sorry. No empanadas this morning.”
A few minutes later, we were settled at the big table on the porch with donuts and coffee. I’d had to drag the table back over from the eaves of the roof where I climbed up the day before with Emily. No one asked why, as though they expected the occasional oddity with me, just as they had with Nana.